


bloody garden

by spymursclause



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Eye Gouging, Gore, M/M, gut fucking, it's really just benjamin instead of aoidos, nezha is in there too... but only until at the very end, written for the gbf kinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spymursclause/pseuds/spymursclause
Summary: “Baal,” Benjamin prompts again, voice silvery and cool, tip of his sword dragging against the ground. The rasp of metal makes Baal flinch — he has never been a fan of the screech.Benjamin’s fingers close around Baal’s wrist — grip firm and unbreaking, eyes alight with a kind of frenzy that makes Baal shiver.
Relationships: Aoidos/Baal (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	bloody garden

**Author's Note:**

> written for the gbf kink meme! thank you op for the request!
> 
> prompt: I want either Aoidos indulging a little from his past or just straight up Benjamin asking Baal if he can fuck his guts.

“You can heal, right?” Baal backs up as Benjamin crowds him further away from the door, unsure of where this is going. He’d only come to check in on Aoidos, hadn’t even summoned his guitar but now he thinks he should.

He hadn’t expected a sword. Or Benjamin. 

“Baal,” Benjamin prompts again, voice silvery and cool, tip of his sword dragging against the ground. The rasp of metal makes Baal flinch — he has never been a fan of the screech. 

Benjamin’s fingers close around Baal’s wrist — grip firm and unbreaking, eyes alight with a kind of frenzy that makes Baal shiver. 

“Benjamin?” Baal says instead, wincing when his back touches the wall and Benjamin boxes him in. He tests the waters, takes a step sideways and Benjamin yanks him back. “Do you… need something from me?” 

“You heal, right?” Benjamin repeats the question.

Baal nods, a pit in his stomach telling him that maybe he shouldn’t have.

“Has anyone ever,” Benjamin’s palm presses against Baal’s stomach, an idle smile on his face as he catches Baal’s nervous gaze, “seen inside here? Played with it?” 

All of Baal’s instincts scream to fight and run but he quashes them. He can’t hurt a human. 

“Not really except for when my astral performed experiments…?” he answers, unsure of how to go on, unsure of where Benjamin wants to go with this. 

Benjamin knocks Baal to the ground before Baal as soon as the words are out of his mouth, before he can even prepare himself. Baal tries to rise the same time Benjamin falls on his side with his knee, and he chokes out a cough, saliva speckled with blood as he hears the sickening crack of his ribs. He can feel his healing magic crackle up, bones scraping along his flesh as they try to stitch back together. 

The sword opens him up with a flick of Benjamin’s wrist — like a doctor with a scalpel; precise and clean. Baal chokes on his own blood that rises up his throat, gurgles as he tries to scream.

A hand plunges into him while he’s still writhing, his gut twisting — literally — and Benjamin murmurs something he can’t hear through the pain.

Something enters his gut, he can feel it sliding through his body and it’s hot, dragging along his flesh. Benjamin makes a noise Baal can only describe as pleased, and even through his pain, he can feel how  _ excited _ Benjamin’s resonance is. 

He can’t help but respond — he’s never felt something like this before and he doesn’t even recognize the noises he makes, choked and mangled, like a beast’s. But they’re most definitely not ones of agony.

Baal’s not sure how he comes — he’s not sure how anything of him  _ works _ anymore at this point and all he can do is ride it out, the parts of him that still move jerking weakly and more of his blood spills out of his body, joins what’s on the ground. 

“Oh you enjoy this,” Benjamin sings, watching Baal go limp, eyes wide with shock yet hazy with pleasure. “You do this with that beast of yours? Let him slice you up with his spear and fuck you in here?” 

Baal attempts to speak again, he can hear air whistling through his lungs as he tries to breathe brokenly — doesn’t work of course, his body is so cut up he wonders how he’s still conscious. He shakes his head instead, another burst of pain running through him when Benjamin toys with something else inside him. 

The squelch of his insides, as sickening as the sound should be, is the one constant that keeps him grounded. Benjamin’s hand skirts up his torso, settles over his chest where his core is.

“If I took this out, and crushed it,” Benjamin’s voice is soft, dripping with morbid curiosity, “you’d die right?”

Baal nods again, head lolling uselessly as he struggles to stay awake, gasping soundlessly. 

“So  _ fragile _ . I wonder how that’d feel, to crush your core in my hands. Would you be like the mice?” 

Baal’s heart skips a beat. 

A hand brushes his face, warm and slick with blood before cradling his face, holding his head still. Benjamin’s other hand forcing fingers into his mouth. Benjamins slowly pushes them down his throat, until Baal’s gagging on the intrusion, weakly flailing against the urge to throw up rising in his throat even though he distantly registers there’s nothing left to throw up. 

“You’re quieter than I thought you would be.” Benjamin only seems a tad displeased, more interested in the way Baal is choking on his fingers. “You’re so  _ loud _ when you’re on the stage. Maybe I should rip out your tongue if you’re not going to use it.”

Baal whimpers, coughing when Benjamin retracts his fingers, hyper aware of the thumb that’s rubbing his cheek in an oddly soothing way. 

Benjamin leans down suddenly, catches Baal off guard — not that his guard is up at all at this point, and kisses him. Baal makes a face, he’s so sure he tastes like nothing but blood but Benjamin pushes him a little harder, urges him to kiss him back and all Baal can do is reciprocate, panting brokenly into Benjamin’s mouth. 

“Then again, I wouldn’t be able to do that if I did.” Benjamin pulls back, blood dripping from his lips, all over his face, grinning down at Baal, while his hips start to speed up again.

Baal doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels tears sliding down his skin, he’s not sure if it’s pain or pleasure — his senses are too muted to even differentiate anymore. He faintly realizes Benjamin is finished when he slides out, leaving Baal a mess on the ground. 

And then Benjamin leans over him.

“Say, Baal.” Benjamin grips his face again, kneeling next to his head now. “Have I ever told you your eyes are beautiful? Like jewels.” 

Baal quivers, gut feeling telling him where this is going. His fingers twitch weakly, he can’t even move his arms to cover his face.

“You wouldn’t mind if I took one right? For safekeeping~”

_ He does mind _ . 

Benjamin’s hands dance over his eyes, flitting from left to right like he can’t decide which one he wants. And then he seems to make a choice, before Baal can blink. Baal can  _ feel _ the fingers sink into his eye socket, grasp his eye and suddenly he can’t see from his right one — and he’s screaming or something like that, a guttural sound that doesn’t sound like him reverberating through his broken body.

Benjamin waits until he quiets down, throat raw, no more air left to gather before he drops the eye next to Baal — Baal can hear the sick  _ plop  _ as the eyeball hits the ground. 

“It looks less pretty when it’s detached… Maybe it has to be attached to you. I’ll give it back to you then.” Benjamin pats his face. “I’ll leave you to heal up now.” Baal shuts his eye, hears the drag of the sword against the floor before the door shuts. And he takes a deep breath, as deep of a one he can take anyways and tries to will what remains of him to stitch back together.

* * *

“Baal… Baal… Ba-al…!” He wakes up groggily, pain coursing through his systems and he curses internally. He’s not done healing yet. But warm hands are cradling his face and he opens his eye… eyes? He has both of them back now. 

Nezha’s face comes into focus.

“What a mess, Baal.” Nezha’s voice is more on the teasing side, moving around a little and Baal winces when he’s jostled and some not quite mended part of him protests in agony. “I haven’t smelled this much of your blood since—”

“Stop it…” Baal says tiredly, coughing weakly — feels like the taste of iron is going to be a permanent taste in his mouth. “You don’t have to remind me.” 

“So you  _ are _ into this kind of thing.” Nezha’s tucking something around him, probably a blanket to compensate for his ruined clothing. 

“Don’t tell…” 

“I would never, your secret is safe with me. But,” Nezha drags his tongue down Baal’s cheek, lapping up the blood and Baal winces, “we must try this sometime.”

Baal takes another deep breath, testing how far he’s healed and the pangs of pain indicate he still has a long way to go. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take to recover from the extent of damage and he’s not always keen on having to push his abilities to the limit but perhaps… For now he doesn’t deign Nezha with an answer and drifts back to a hollow sleep instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [spymursclause](https://twitter.com/spymursclause)


End file.
